


Bleeding Out

by Amorphe_Hexe



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Blood, F/M, Gen, Gore, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 22:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5802181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorphe_Hexe/pseuds/Amorphe_Hexe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Oh, you tell me to hold on</i><br/>Oh, you tell me to hold on<br/>But innocence is gone<br/>And what was right is wrong</p><p> </p><p>Milanda attempts to rescue Sir Zeliek from Naxxramas, but she may have bitten off more than she can chew.</p><p>Based on a conversation with tumblr users littlest-death-knight and asksirzeliek</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleeding Out

The familiar clamoring of intruders in the halls outside of the Horsemen’s Assembly caught Zeliek’s attention, and before he even thinks about it, he’s on his feet, armor halfway on. The other Horsemen are already mounting, and as usual, he gets a sneer from his companions for his slowness.

They understand his hesitation. He understands their obedience. Neither of these things means they don’t butt heads.

He mounts, settling himself into the saddle before waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Finally, they heard the challenging party outside of their room. They could see their opponents gathering – men and women of the Argent Crusade.

A familiar baritone voice called out amongst them, and it sent chills down Zeliek’s spine. “See if we can’t lure Lady Blaumeux and Sir Zeliek away from the other two and disable them.”

No.

“You don’t- You don’t want us to kill them?”

_No._

“Incapacitate them if you can. Kill the other two.”

**_No._ **

The crusaders charged forward, all shouting angrily. Within two minutes, five had fallen before Baron Rivendare’s sword and Thane Korth’azz’s fire. Tendrils of Shadow echoed out of the ground to the sound of Lady Blaumeux’s laughter.

Zeliek concentrated small smiting spells on one crusader at a time, though his eyes wandered.

He knew he’d heard her voice.

Maybe he was mistaken.

Maybe she wasn’t there.

Another crusader fell, and then he saw her.

Milanda’s armor glittered, blessed steel and gold inlay and lapis lazuli accents, in the style of Lordaeronian paladins of old, a billowing cloak of blue and gold trailing behind her. She wore no helm, and her hair was braided back.

Arthas had had armor like that. Uther had had armor like that. _He_ had had armor like that.

She lashed out with her sword, lopping off Korth’azz’s head even as she blocked Blaumeux’s shadow tendrils. The Thane’s head landed at the crossing of three crusaders’ consecrated circles, and the pure Light was enough to burn it to naught but ash.

Zeliek tore teary eyes away to look at Rivendare, who was being overwhelmed. Even as Zeliek rushed to help him, and even though he took down many of them, valiantly, he was dismounted, and when the crusaders turned to advance on Zeliek, he backed away.

There were four crusaders left, and two Horsemen.

_And Milanda._

Zeliek shook the thought from his head. Milanda would flee once she saw it was hopeless.

_Is it hopeless?_

_Of course it is_ , Blaumeux’s voice corrected him _. They took down two of us, and twenty of them lie dead around us. It’s hopeless. She’ll run._

“I’m not leaving you here!” Milanda called, as if listening in on their conversation. “I’m not leaving you here! Especially not you, Zeliek! I’m leaving with you, or not at all!”

He shivered again, and he could hear Kel’thuzad laughing in his mind as he lost control over his body, urging his steed forward to swing at the other crusaders with his mace.

Blaumeux charged as well, and though the crusaders dodged Zeliek’s attacks, they stumbled back into a forest of shadow tendrils, ready to tear them limb from limb and choke them.

Milanda was all that was left.

“Leave! Please, I’m begging you, Milanda, run! You know what we can do! You, more than anyone, know we can’t be stopped!” Zeliek pleaded, tears already burning at the edges of his eyes.

“Go, child,” Blaumeux called. “I’m giving you this last chance to leave before I have to bring you home.”

The paladin gritted her teeth and threw her shield, knocking Blaumeux off her horse. She turned back to Zeliek, not expecting Blaumeux to jump to her feet and charge her.

The death knight’s cursed runeblade dug in and sundered Milanda’s breastplate, tearing through the chain and fabric underneath as well, even leaving a gash across her chest. Milanda yelped, bringing her sword up instinctively and impaling Blaumeux with it. Light danced along her blade and the Rider of Shadow screamed before falling limp.

Milanda pushed her off of her sword, looking pained and slightly disgusted to do so, before turning to Zeliek. “I’m going to incapacitate you, Zeliek, and I’m getting you out of here.”

“Please, leave.”

“Just… hold on, Zeliek. _Please_ hold on. I can save you.”

“There’s nothing to save anymore, Milanda, please, go. I don’t want to hurt you. What was wrong is right, now, and what was right is wrong, and I _can’t_ …”

Milanda walked around him, picked up her shield, and readied herself to fight.

Zeliek urged his horse forward, and part of him wondered whether it was Kel’thuzad or himself who caused the motion. He brought down his mace towards her, and she blocked with her shield, swinging her sword in a small motion to try and disarm him. He lashed out with the Light, and she struck back, both of them hissing at the burning.

They fought like this for what felt like hours. However, Zeliek knew Milanda was tiring. There was less force behind her strikes, and she was sent stumbling backwards with each block. She was breathing hard, sweat drenching her despite the coolness of the necropolis.

“Just… hold on. Hold the circle.”

Zeliek tried to stop himself. He had never fought so hard against the compulsions on his body.

It wasn’t enough to stop the mace.

His screams weren’t enough to keep him from hearing the crunch of her skull breaking.

Even though he closed his eyes, he somehow still saw her collapse in a bleeding heap.

* * *

 

Two weeks since the last attack.

Two weeks since Zeliek had not-so-narrowly finished off the Argent Crusade raiding party.

Korth’azz had been beyond saving, his head gone and his body in pieces. Blaumeux and Rivendare had been stitched up and were chatting in hushed tones.

Zeliek had not once moved from his corner. Blaumeux and Rivendare had been taking turns feeding his cats, and had split the Horsemen’s work around the necropolis between them.

He hadn’t even taken the draughts intended to keep them functional, and Blaumeux idly wondered if he was, maybe, truly dead.

A chill upon the room called their attention to the doorway, and even Zeliek looked up.

Kel’thuzad stood there, a hooded figure, large and obviously a death knight, beside him. They were leading a massive deathcharger.

“You will all be delighted to hear that I have found a _suitable_ replacement for Korth’azz,” the Archlich proclaimed, and Blaumeux scoffed.

“We looked through everyone here, and they were all _lacking_ ,” Rivendare said.

“What could this _newcomer_ have that they don’t?” Blaumeux asked.

Though the Lich had no eyes, Zeliek could have sworn Kel’thuzad looked straight at him.

“A _childhood_ of training as a death knight.”

Zeliek felt like he was choking as Kel’thuzad pushed back the new Horseman’s hood.

“Lady Menethil. Why don’t you reacquaint yourself with your childhood _friends_?”

Milanda looked upon all of them from behind her half-helm with no expression to speak of. Her armor was intricate and heavy, her helm shaped to resemble a spiked crown, her hair braided back so tightly as to appear short at first glance. She looked like a massive porcelain doll.

Zeliek felt tears spilling down his cheeks as she led her charger into the room, nodded at each of the other Horsemen in turn, then moved to what had previously been Korth’azz’s corner.

* * *

 

Milanda did all the chores. Anything the others asked her to do, she did without complaint.

She never said _anything_ , actually. Rivendare theorized that the blow to her skull that killed her damaged her speech capabilities, but Blaumeux argued that, perhaps, she simply didn’t want to speak.

Zeliek tried to find a scrap of his old friend in her, but she never once reacted to anything he said, never responded. She was hardly in their assembly at all, always doing repair work or cleaning or something else.

* * *

 

Things in Naxxramas had mostly returned to normal. They had a couple of foolhardy adventuring groups breach their walls, but they were dispatched easily, either by the other creatures of the necropolis, or by the new Horseman’s merciless attacks.

It was after one of these incidents, returning from repair work in the Construct Quarter, that Zeliek found a scarf on top of the scraggly straw mattress he slept on when he could. It was crocheted, neatly, out of dirty scraps of yarn, and folded. Though it wasn’t exactly clean, it was soft, and felt nice in his hands.

Two days later, they were attacked again, only this time, the vicious Lady Menethil was slightly more subdued, seeming to opt instead to protect Zeliek. They killed off the intruders easily again.

“Hey, Zeliek! Do you have a new _girlfriend_ over there, or is she just momentarily your _whore_?”

Zeliek bristled, but Milanda didn’t even seem to notice. She simply started cleaning.

Sometimes, when they had down time and he could sleep, just before he passed out, or just as he woke up, he would see her, watching him. This was the only time he saw an expression on her face – something somewhere between guilt and longing.

* * *

 

They were beaten, badly, and it was only through sheer luck that they managed to win. Blaumeux had mostly come off uninjured, and had delivered the final blows. Now, she was off cleaning the necropolis. Rivendare, for his part, had been badly wounded, and had been scurried away to the Construct Quarter for repairs. Milanda’s armor had been damaged, and she had vanished immediately after the fight.

This left Zeliek alone. He was injured, but not as badly as Rivendare, and had been told he could wait to be patched up – he was more likely to heal on his own, anyways, they said.

So he sat in his corner, trying to ignore the stinging of his wounds. He became acutely aware of armored footsteps breaking the relative silence of the Military Quarter, and turned around to see who was approaching.

Milanda stepped into the Horsemen’s Assembly, and he gasped, despite the pain this brought to his open wounds, a lump in his throat. She had discarded her breastplate and under layers, standing only in her leg armor, boots, and trousers. Her crown-like helm had also vanished. With her armor gone, he could easily see the wounds she had suffered just before her death.

The tracing of Blaumeux’s blade across her chest.

The place where his own mace had ended her life.

He looked away as she approached, crouching just beside him. She tapped his shoulder, careful not to hit any wounds, and when he looked up at her again, she held up suture thread and a fine needle meaningfully.

He stared at her for a moment before understanding, then nodded. “Sure. Thank you.”

He hesitantly removed his shirt and binder, so she could get to his wounds more efficiently, and they sat in silence as she worked to stitch him back together. She seemed to be working as carefully as she could to prevent pain, while still doing neat work.

He had fallen into a sort of trance, lost in his thoughts, when he was startled back into awareness by a baritone voice, hoarse from disuse.

“ _I’m sorry._ ”

Zeliek turned to look at Milanda, unsure if he were hearing things or if she’d really spoken.

After a moment, she opened her mouth and repeated herself. “I’m sorry.”

Zeliek nodded, as if lost for how to respond. How would he respond? Finally, the words tumbled from his mouth.

“It’s alright. I’m the one who should be sorry. I _killed_ you.”

She shook her head slightly before resuming her work. “No, you did what you had to. You had no choice. I should have left when you asked me to. I should have walked away, tried again another day. Or actually aimed to kill you and remove you from this place forever.”

She tied off her latest suture and cut the thread, and once he saw she’d put the needle down, he twisted, throwing himself into her arms, their bare chests pressed together as he wept softly.

“I’m sorry, Milanda. I’m _so sorry_.”

She seemed shocked by his closeness, and simply sat there as he held onto her, sobbing into her neck.

Finally, she put her arms around him and sighed. “I’m sorry, too, Zeliek.”


End file.
